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Signal
To be honest, I've never thought about murder and death. I'm used to just pushing through thoughts like that, you know? Especially for a twenty-seven year old scientist. Don't get me wrong, I've seen my share of coffins and corpses here in Vail, Colorado. But that was before the freak accident with the Tesla coils killed me, and I was a, shall we say, guinea pig of new weaponry for the US government. I'm kinda glad I'm not as human anymore. They're so petty. They kill for money, ego, materialistic pride. I kill to feel. The power running through my wire veins, electricity crackling in my palms. I feel less mortal that way and the power is so tantalizing. It's satisfying. Energizing. And each scream, every breath, every swear and spasm is delicious. My past is kinda normal, with a good childhood. Yeah, before I was weaponized, I had a wife and nine-year-old son. We lived in a gorgeous house in a quaint little town I never remembered the name of. Pine trees seemed to claw at my heart with beauty and the mountains only made my love for my human life grow. But when I wasn't human anymore? Well, let's just say they were my subjects of my power. It was a total accident, that was unintentional. I was horrified at first. I mean, I was a normal scientist fresh out of college, with my life ahead of me, now I'm a murderer? But being powerful is so much more satisfying than being... Hmmm, average. A memory stuck in my throat and caused me to stumble through pine needles. White coated scientists huddled around an almost still body. Shallow breaths escaped sandpaper lips. The lips of Zack Wattson. Tension in the room was so thick, a knife couldn't even cut through it, no one could dare breathe. It was as if everyone was in an ocean of blood and sterilized bleach. But this was a critical moment—for mankind. To see if we could truly turn electrocuted humans into the weapons our United States government so desperately needed. To be on top of the world. Zack's colleagues muttered insecurities as they pumped more anesthetics into his lungs, and the squelch of skin interrupted their thoughts. It made no difference to Zack. He couldn't even feel his tongue at that moment. Spaghetti-like veins were clipped from his arms and wires were put into place. The drugs started waning... And the bright white world was painted red with crimson regret... "No! No longer!" I screamed. "That is no longer me! I am no longer that stupid excuse of a human being!" The human mind sucks, huh? So anyways, now that I've perfected my technique of taunting and traumatizing and taking lives, I am emotionless. And it feels so good. But sometimes, I miss my wife and my son. My young, talented, strong son... "Get it together, Zack Wattson. You've thought about this a million times. Time to man up and get it together," I growled to myself. My harsh, hypnotically lilting voice was louder than intended. Oops. Hopefully, no one heard me when was growling and screaming. If they did, I'd wipe their memories clean. Like a data chip in a computer. A teenage girl, maybe sixteen, started opening the curtains. I dived into the bushes in front of the house, my gray hair catching on thorns and cutting my grayish blue skin. Black, stale blood pooled into little droplets. It didn't matter. I couldn't bleed or feel pain unless it was a source of electricity. It's hard to explain. The only way my head made sense of it was that it was a lesson of the cliché reminder, "What gives you life, can take it away." Like water to you. You'd die without it, but in large, forceful amounts, you could drown. Too much electricity for me and I'd die. My chest gave a weird thump, like that of a heart beating with the crackles of anxiety. Since when did I become that grossly poetic? Now it's time to implant my fear strategy. Is there a signal...? Are they calling someone...? They are. I interrupt the phone signal and add a recording compilation of dying screams, breaths, and voices of previous victims. I'm not that cruel to truly kill them, so this is just a classy and humane way to keep something of them alive, you know? My form changes quickly and I pay attention to her and her boyfriend's conversation, so I can speak through the phone to the girl and use information to knock her down. My body tingles and squishes. I feel compression and panic. Blue light brightens the area and I'm suddenly a ball. Probably the size of a basketball. Have you heard of orbs on those ghost hunting shows? Yup, that's basically what I am. "Hello? Ryan? The phone is breaking up. Hello?" The girl's voice was musical, but in a way, as familiar as my wife's... No! No more! Stop thinking about it! "Hello?" She asked again. I laughed slightly. Jeez, she's kinda childish. "Ah, my dear, who's this?" "Um, do I know you?" She sounded courageous, but feigning bravery has never worked with anyone, she's not an exception. "I will give you another chance, what's your name?" I moved into the well furnished living room. Hmm, nice gold curtains, a familiar red chair, a brick fireplace with pictures on the mantle... With a picture of my family and I before the accident. This was my sister-in-law's house. And the girl I was after was my niece. How long has it been? I used to visit her all the time, when she was in middle school. Does that mean I'm about thirty-one by now? And she's sixteen? It would make sense. My wife was a year younger than me, and her sister was eight years older. "I'm Au-Autumn..." Why was she struggling so hard to say that? You'd think she was having a seizure by the shakiness of her voice. "Ah, Autumn. What a lovely name," she hangs up in the middle of my sentence. Or attempts to, at least. But I have a hold of the signal. "No no no! You will not leave me too!" "Who are you? Are you some tech savvy lunatic?!" She shrieked. If I was human, my eardrums would probably be bleeding from the pitch. But my niece's voice was tainted with disbelief and lowered the pitch just a tad. My cackling laugh was followed by my thinly veiled thoughts. "You seem to be delusional, and have the notion that everyone is innocent. Innocence is a disguise, a distraction in a sense, from what we don't want to see in a person. I know you're not an angel as you make yourself to be. I heard what you were speaking about with your... lover. Good luck telling your mother about your pregnancy scare, if you ever get to see her again," I muttered. That should scare her into submission. Every breath was ragged, shallow, and fast. Each hot gasp twisted my soul into a shriveled up piece of paper. Honestly, I felt bad. She must be horrified. There was a mental grunt as my form was now human again. Guilt burned my being like the electricity burned through my cooked flesh and skin, and emotions ripped through me like tissue paper. Everything tumbled out of my thoughts into the phone. "I'm so sorry. I don't mean to... I don't want to harm you. Just because I never got a full life doesn't mean you shouldn't. I just don't want anyone to experience what the government will do to you. I torture, maim, scare, all true, but they didn't rip your very essence to shreds. Even your unique genetic code was destroyed so you basically didn't ever exist. At least after I end your suffering, I can keep your memory alive electronically." "Um... Why are you telling me this?" Surely, I was inwardly blushing with embarrassment. Why was I telling her this? "I'm just showing you how unrealistic innocence is. How ending your life is a good thing for you. Just submit unto me, and all drama and pains and sorrows will end." I faked concern and let sweetness drip over my words like thick, golden honey. A smile lingered on my lips as her breathing became heavier, as screams in the phone pushed the pain further into my head. Pain, can't seem to get enough, I thought satisfyingly. There was some sniffling and scratching on paper. Of course. She was writing her death letter. Little does she know, she probably won't be dying for a little while. Ha. Silence enveloped us and the recording was turned off, just to let her think this nightmare was over. But it's only getting started. I found her room pretty easily. Posters of bands and presumed friends dressed the whiteboard of wood. The door slowly clicked open. But beautiful Autumn didn't acknowledge me. Curly copper tresses fell past her slim waist, and I could see moonlight delicately glow off of her seemingly flawless face. Letters and tissues littered the floor, along with glass pieces of the iPhone I was talking to her through. Obviously she tried to break it. Another quick flashback took over for a second. It was March 15. The first day she walked through the door of the school. Of course, everyone stared at her flawless beauty. Skin the color of cream glowed under the sunlight reflecting off of white bricks. Her hair fell into seductive waves that tumbled against the gentle curve of her back. Heavily lashed golden brown eyes searched around the area for him. He promised he'd be here, she thought. "My beautiful Calla," said the grinning boy. His black hair was tousled with anxiety. He hadn't seen her in months, but they talked a lot over the phone. Leaning down, ever gently, he kissed her softly and tenderly. Her lips tasted like vanilla and happiness. She responded with exploration of his mouth. She pulled back, and only whispered, "Zack, oh God, you have no idea how much I missed you. I love you." Zack's snow white skin reddened with utter adoration as his blue eyes opened slowly. "I love you, Calla." Oh God, she looked so much like my wife. It hurts. I hate being so weak and tender. Even from where I was standing, I heard her mutter, "I know who you are, Uncle Zack." As she turned around to face me, I noted her features. Graceful figure, with spindly legs, luscious hips. Since when did I become so involved with physical features? "There are stories of you. People say you're a monster, hideous and cruel, but I only see a twenty-seven-year-old man who's had bad things happen to him," she walked towards me with an unnatural fluidity, and put her hands on my muscular chest (just because I'm a murderer doesn't mean I'm not allowed to have a nice body), and moved her arms out slowly to hug me, hug her favorite uncle. Before she could move any farther, my hand wrapped around her neck and lifted her foot off the ground. "Don't you dare touch me with your whore hands! I will not tolerate the touch of a little girl!" I spat in her face. She was turning colors now and making futile attempts at freeing herself. "Oh, you want down?" She nodded weakly. Silent tears streamed down her swollen face, and when my grip loosened, Autumn fell with a delightfully painful thud. She coughed and touched the purple, yellow, black, and blue bruises on her neck. After letting her catch her breath, I turned her so she was facing me and sitting up. With my most bloodthirsty voice, I purred, "Is this what you wanted, dear? To hand your barely beating soul out to me? Because you thought I'd be a sort of defibrillator? What could save you, too much of it could kill you," To curb my hunger, I grabbed the back of her head and forced my lips into hers. It was gross, but the stuff you do to hold a reputation can be extreme. She tried to pull back, but I snaked my tongue out to explore her lips, and bit her bottom lip hard. Crimson regret flowed from the punctures slowly. I pushed further, deeper. Again, it was gross, but I didn't realize how much I craved touch. Especially now that another flashback took over. "Uncle Zackie!" A little girl, maybe twelve, leapt into the arms of Zack. His sculpted arms wrapped around her and caught her. She wept sorrowfully and snuggled into his hug. He held her as he sat down in the red chair by the fireplace. "What's wrong, punkin?" He asked. Frowning, he wiped off her tearstained face and brushed her hair out of her mouth. Daddy," she hiccuped, "Told me I was a horrible kid. He touched me in weird ways and told me not to scream. Then he hit Mommy and left. Zackie, he smelled bad. Like that beer big people drink. Would you ever touch me like that? Don't hurt me, Uncle Zackie." Zack's eyes became glassy with rage. "Don't worry, Autumn. I'll never hurt you. I love you too much. You're gonna grow up to be a strong person without your stupid father." Zack let a tear shed in empathy of his agonized niece and reassuringly kissed her forehead. If he ever sees anyone hurt her like that again, he will find them, and he will rip them to shreds. Why is this happening to me? It's killing me! But... It's murdering me righteously. My form changed again. I was human shape made out of all electricity. Her brown eyes widened like a doe's, and she thrashed weakly. My palms heated up, and I let the currents flow through my hands and tongue and lips. That feeling was unfathomably amazing. After some spasms, she went still. Barely alive. Just how I needed her. She was slung over my shoulder as we traveled out of the house. I do have two emotions, come to think of it. Lust is... Self explanatory. What can I say, I was a human, some of that is gonna remain. Delight is from the pain I see and cause in others. Like when a child squashes a bug. Sometimes, I wish I wasn't so gruesome and that this never happened to me. But that's only when I think real deep. Anyways, I walked into the woods and kept following the highway. The woods was the prime choice of murderers. There were so many bad stories about it, and not to mention how people would rationalize the noises with animals instead of killers. After a few hours of walking and alternating between running, we arrived at my lab. Her long hair kept getting caught on my lab coat buttons, and I was about ready to go chop it off. Although it was so beautiful... The door was unlocked and the lights were off in the clean, sterile lab. She was stirring. Now it's time for the usual routine. "Quit your whimpering. And get your hair out of my way." She flopped onto the bed. "Wh-what," she coughed and sputtered and lightly touched her neck. She was still coughing and gasping. "Speak up, Autumn," I said irritably. "What do you want from me? I still see good in you, you're only a man who's had bad things happen to him. I still see my uncle in you. The man who was like my father. Whatever you want, whatever you need and desire, I'll give you, if it'll help. I promise." "Hmmm... Sounds tempting. But," I laughed, "What I want is something you'd never give me." Now, this is not a place for personal things. Let's just say I am an ultimate monster, who is to have an heir in nine months. I could feel the slight energy in her stomach. As I saw her skin, went inside her, I knew she had to bear a child. After it escapes her womb in a wave of pain and blood, I will kill her. Three years later... My baby Crona is growing up strong and is no doubt full of untapped energy. She made her first kill on a squirrel today. I could never be anymore proud of my little machine. She's growing up beautiful too, which is good for luring in those scientists. They're very sex hungry. All my faith for vengeance is placed unto my daughter. I can't wait until Crona grows up. I look forward to killing with her. Category:Reality Category:Beings